Aparecium
by Shamelessly Radiant
Summary: DRABBLES, TRHG: A spell to reveal hidden writing reveals various (Tomione) drabbles, plot bunnies, and other things that would have been left forgotten in this authors computer otherwise, until eventually she spilled her morning coffee over it as she desperately searched whatever document she had forgotten the night before, and it would be lost forever. Enjoy!
1. Darkness Uncovered

**1) **

Rating T

Pairing: Tom Riddle/Hermione Granger

**A/N: I have a cat named Tom, and sometimes I call him in exactly the way you will read and I don't know, this is ridiculous, like **_**ridiculous,**_** but it has been following me for like a month and I need to, you know- get it out of my system.**

**A bit of explanation: it's the vampire universe where they need to be invited in before they can enter. (See The Vampire Diaries).**

**I don't even know if vampires maintain their magic powers, (I spent zero time research on this) but let's pretend they do.**

**Enjoy.**

Summary:

After today, she thinks she will be much more careful about who she invites into her house. Though maybe, not.

.

"Come, come, come, come, cat Tom, come Tommietomcat,"

She is holding the white door half open, her body behind it to shield herself a bit from the awfully cold night, it really is fucking freezing and the only reason she is patiently standing here is because she feels sorry for her cat. The beast is probably snuggling up right now to her hated neighbour Ms. Rigs, who always gives him milk behind her back, even though she keeps saying _no, don't do that, cats can get sick, yes I should know, my uncle is a veterinarian._

Traitors, both of them.

"Oh come on, Tom! " she snarls one last time, as a particularly cold gush of air waves in, and the snow that lands on her barefoot melts into freezing water, "it's bloody cold outside, if you don't come, I'm shutting the door"

She spots a movement outside, the barest swish of a branch from her apple tree and so she does the ultimate thing. A sacrifice, you could call it. She also knows Tom is never able to resist it.

She gives up her hiding place behind the door- it was too flimsy to properly shield her from the cold in the first place- and crouches down in the opening, gazing into the dark moon- and starless night.

In a cooing tone also used with babies, she starts "Yes darling Tommie, come, come, yes, Tom, _come in_, I-"

Her breath gets stuck in her throat and she throws herself out of the way. Her heart is beating in fear, she can hear the thudding noise in her ears, overwhelming her.

_Stu-pid, stu-pid, stu-pid_

_Thu-thunk, thu-thunk, thu-thunk._

In, like _inside_, her house now stands a man. A man regarding her curiously, with a charming expression, and she is acutely aware of her still crouching position and the way she is looking at him, but she will not be fooled, because really, he is standing in her house, at _night._

She looks around for a weapon, but the only possibility is smashing his head in with a chair, because all her knives are _in the kitchen _and oh, God, he just realised that too, if the grin he has is any indication, she is going to die..

She stands, she pauses, she looks at him. He smiles at her. She frowns an then stupidly-

"Hello"

She winces at herself, and his smile only grows bigger. His teeth are sharp and white enough to _gleam._

"Hello _Hermione_" the stranger replies.

And suddenly, she knows why his wavy black hair, pale skin and dark eyes are so familiar. _Harry _her mind screams, but no, this is not Harry, this is-

She backs away, to _the kitchen, _hoping to reach it in time. He just watches amusedly, raising one, dark, perfect brow.

He looks like a gentleman, goddamit.

"You're supposed to be _death_" she whispers, stops moving, because really, if she is right, it is no use.

He laughs, shocked, approvingly.

"You really are a smart girl" he says, slowly and then, not bothering with normal movement, he is standing right in front of her, _just not touching, _invading her personal space.

She shrieks, and stumbles away, but he reaches out, fast, prevents her from falling and smashing her head open on the table by wrapping an arm around her waist and hauling her in to him. She braces her hands on his chest to prevent her head from smacking it, her feet get caught up in his when she tries to regain her equilibrium, he half turns them around, trying to untangle herself she only manages to get them more caught up, and they fall to the floor.

"Well, I must admit," he muses, "I did not expect you to be beneath me so quickly"

"Oh, get off, Riddle" she snaps, pushing him off her, he does not move- _what a surprise_\- and she is furious, because her head is hurting from the collision with the floor, the break up with Ron still has not healed completely, which has made her feel alone the past time, and now she is in a _perfect _position with a handsome young man who is _BLOODY TOM RIDDLE ALSO KNOWN AS VOLDEMORT OR EVIL, MAD MANIAC AND AS SUCH OFF LIMITS._

_Oh, and he is a vampire and STILL ALIVE. (Or technically, undead.) Did she forget to mention that? And, in her house, too, by the way. Can the evening get any better? Keep in mind, her cat is ignoring her too._

"Charming, Hermione, really" the man- who still has not moved an inch and is distractingly close -remarks.

_Apparently, __**yes**__, the evening can get better, because Mr. Riddle here still can do magic and is currently reading her mind. And her wand is upstairs. Oh God, he just read that too. She is going to die, oh, __**she is going to die**__, maybe she can kill herself by smashing her head on the floor repeatedly? Would probably hurt less than what he plans to do-_

"Calm down, Granger" he snaps, "I am not going to hurt you."

_**Suuure**__ , that's what he probably told millions of people now laying in their graves too. _Distantly she notices he is saying something, but she is too upset to care, really, _she is going to die. Alone. Her cat is ignoring her and he- he- he is __**kissing her? **__That feels nice, wait what-_

She kisses him back, wrapping her arms around his neck and he teases her with his tongue and pushes her back each time she tries to enter his mouth and one am is braced on the ground, to not put his full weight on her and the other is currently on her breast, and _oh that feels good_ and wait, wait, no, _no, __**No**_

His pupils are dilated when he stops and sits up after she pushed him away, and it sends a jolt through her, but he does not continue, merely, rakes a hand through his mused up hair, courtesy of her, and gently pulls her to a sitting position as well, their legs still intertwined.

He lays the hand that is not holding her wrist on her knee and says: "I need you to do something for me"

"You want me to help you get rid of your vampirism"

His eyes widen and then he smirks.

"Darling, are you sure you were not in Slytherin? All your indignation about me reading your mind while you were doing the same thing"

"I should have done it in the animal shelter too when that _friendly lady _adamantly insisted the cat's name was Tom. You had this all planned out, didn't you?"

He shrugs "Not all, no. Some things are quite _delightful _when done.. impulsively." His gaze goes to her lips and she flushes red.

"Right, uhm, if you want me to share my research -how did you even find out, I am an _unspeakable_\- then that is to not happen again"

He smirks and raises a hand, raking his nail lightly over her neck.

Her eyes widen and she shakes her head, "No, no way, that is not going to happen"

Laughing, he bends forward and then takes on a pleading expression "But sweetheart, I'm _hungry._"

She _barely _resists slapping him, but takes comfort in vivid imagination.

His expression turns threatening, deadly. "Oh, I am sure something can be worked out, Hermione"

Suddenly, outside a cat meows.

She makes to stand up, but his grip has turned vicelike around her wrist.

"Hermione," he says, "keep in mind that I have been invited in, and that you are_ At. My. Mercy. _Now, are you ready to make _the deal?_"

"What do you propose?" she asks, after a long silence only disturbed by meows.

He smirks. "Let's get more comfortable first, shall we? Your kitchen floor is quite cold, and in my experience, there is nothing wrong with, let's say _mixing business with pleasure_"

He stands up, dusting his jacket off after giving her an obvious look.

She averts her eyes, hoping to seem ashamed while she is thinking -_**thank God vampires cannot hear your thoughts like in those ridiculous teenager books- **_she should let him kill her. She should pretend to agree to then floo Harry, or apparate or put wards or whatever, but somehow she knows that is not what she is going to do-

She has spent four years on this research, _four years of her life_, trying to get permission and each time being sent to a higher up, and a higher up to no avail, and here comes a _real life vampire _that she can test, and not only that, it is a man that has read her research and has _actually_ understood it, someone she could _discuss _it with, and she can also research into Voldemort's immortality arrangements, something that had her a little more interested than she should have been.. she remembers her fascination with the horcruxes, and how gruesome she found it at the same time. Like a movie on TV that you don't really want to see, but you also cannot turn away..

"Hermione"

She looks up, and he extends a hand towards her. To help her up, yes, but also to express his confidence in the fact that she will take it, take this, take _him _and make the deal.

He isn't wrong.

Outside, everything is silent, as a cat named Tom has left and is snuggling up to Ms. Rigs, delicately cleaning his milk stained mouth with his paw.


	2. Desire

**A/N: ****Because when I am studying my breaks consist of Tumblr and writing ridiculous fanfiction. Sorry? Enjoy and do leave me a little word!**

_**.**_

Hermione Granger never was drunk.

She was rational, smart, thought things true, had her life fully planned out-

And was sitting on the step of some restaurants back door in a half lit alley, next to garbage cans with rotting food, and was staring at the heel of her shoe in her right hand and the remains of that shoe in the left, near crying because _why was her shoe broken?_

To make matters worse: she had no idea where she was.

There were rats everywhere.

Oh and she still hadn't a clue about how to leave this wretched time and return to 1999.

Hermione Granger never was drunk-

Except for when she botched up an experiment for what felt like the _hundredth _time.

"Granger?" a voice called out, and light flashed in the alley.

Oh yes. That was the worst thing of all. Somehow, the only person that could help her was Tom bloody Riddle, the glorious young Dark Lord.

She did an attempt at standing up... and nearly toppled over. That wretched shoe. Why women couldn't simply wear flats was completely beyond her. That was perhaps why she hated this time most of all.

Strong arms caught her before she could fall, and she slumped against Tom's chest, mumbling incoherently into his shirt.

"Okay, okay, Granger," he shushed her, a hand gently stroking her hair, "Let's get you home, shall we?"

She started laughing maniacally, oh yes, how _great _would it be if Voldemort helped to get her home safe and well? He tilted her chin and his beautiful, handsome, lovely, angelic _ugh _face flickered with concern. He probably thought she had gone insane. This was, after all, a very different Hermione than the always collected, highly intelligent classmate he had gone to school with in his seventh year.

Finally she managed to pull herself together- somewhat. "Nooo, don't wannago hoome," she slurred, shaking her head.

"All right, Granger, all right" when she only clung to him tighter, pressing her face into his shirt again, sniffing at his neck, _he smelled good_, he sighed.

"Hermione. Listen. I'll take you to my apartment then. Are you stable enough to apparate?"

"Wh- h-at?"

He sighed again, raked a hand through his hair, and then suddenly she was weightless. He had picked her up, one arm under her bend knees, the other around her shoulders.

"I guess that's a no. I'd rather not have vomit on my carpet" he remarked lightly, and started walking.

"Pretty hair," she mumbled into his neck, her hand musing it up, "so soft. Smells good. Pretty boy too"

He snorted, but the arms around her tightened.

Hermione continued to mumble nonsense "So strong, so smart, so pretty, so sweet.."

When they finally entered a building his shoulders were shaking with silent laughter.

He deposited her on the sofa, sitting down next to her a moment later. "Here, drink this. Sobering potion"

When Hermione made no move to do so, he shifted them so he'd be able to hold up her head, and held the vial to her lips"

Hermione groaned, waiting for the taste to go away and her pounding headache to disappear. When it was almost gone she opened one eye carefully, and when she noticed that the light wasn't too bright she opened them both and relaxed a bit more.

That's when the intimate position she and Tom were in hit her: her legs were draped across his as he sat on the sofa and she half lay on it, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, holding her up, her breasts pressed to his side as her head rested on the junction between his shoulder and neck.

She looked up and met a very amused face and started blushing madly. Oh god. _Pretty boy? Really?_

"So sorry for that"

He smirked at her, laughed a little even. "Don't worry Hermione, you are _ very _flattering when you are drunk"

His hand stroked her leg soothingly and- his hand was on her leg. It suddenly hit Hermione, with _staggering _clarity, how far up her skirt had ridden, and the way his calloused fingers stroked lightly, high on her thigh.

Her mouth went dry, and she licked her lips. It did not go unnoticed, and his eyes tracked her lips before slowly meeting her eyes again. The hand on her shoulder tightened, bringing her even closer to him and somehow.. they were kissing.

Hermione never had time to quite grasp it. It almost happened in flashes.

His lips tugging and licking at hers, his tongue invading her mouth as he kissed her breath away.

The realization that they had changed positions, and he was now hovering above her, one leg between hers, pressing wet, open mouthed kisses to her neck, and his thumb making circles on the soft skin between her skirt and blouse.

Tugging at his shirt and touching every inch of skin as he pulled it off, marvelling at his well shaped chest and muscles. His hand trailing around to get rid of her bra and then look at her with a wicked, wicked look before starting to trail kisses down.

One hand in his hair, her back arched as his mouth licked and tugged with her nipple and he slowly eased two fingers in and out of her vagina, his thumb circling her clit and oh, _oh._

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he kissed her, one hand playing with her breast, caressing it so softly, without fumbling without pain, and the rhythm he made theirs as he trust in and out, in and out.

Him pushing up to let her see when he caught her looking, and both of them watching, as they joined again and again.

Being gathered in his arms and carried into the bedroom where he tugged her close, whispered: "I've wanted you since you beat me the third time we duelled", and pressed a kiss to her neck before falling asleep.

And hours later the realization that she not only had fucked Lord Voldemort.. but wanted to do it again.


	3. When you wish upon a Star

**A/N:****So I started a prompt table on LJ, a way to challenge myself and get back to writing. I may post them all eventually, after I rewrite some of them because I really don't like the first ones I wrote. The other ones are quite longer, so they will be posted separately (in series on AO3) but this one is really not more than a Drabble, so I decided to post it to my Aparecium collection on . This one was prompt 5.**

**Enjoy and do review,**

**Prompt: Gloves (5)**

**Summary: Be careful what you wish for.**

_**.**_

White, white, _white_

Snow, snow, _snow_

Trees, trees, _trees_

Cold, cold, **_cold._**

It has been exactly four hours, twenty-two minutes and three seconds Ron Weasley returned, heroically saved Harry Potter from drowning, and then disaparated with him to somewhere safe because the boy hadn't been waking up.

As if he had been there _alone._

As if the tent would not have been close by.

As if he could not have simply yelled her name, or perform a warming charm or whatever.

Honestly.

And so, it has been exactly four hours, fifteen minutes and forty-six seconds that Hermione packed up the tent, and started walking through the woods.

In the dark.

Dark, dark, _dark._

Honestly, how far could they have gone? She has no idea where they can be, no idea what to do. She send a patronus message already, but still has not gotten a reply. She is scared. She is alone, and three hours ago this snow blizzard decided to start up, not only making her cold, but also wet.

Wet, wet, _wet._

And she is **_hungry _**too.

Two hours ago she then began to question her feelings for Ronald Weasley. Sure, he is a _dear _and funny, and logic. He is loyal, and kind. He came back after he left, and he has sacrificed himself in a gigantic chess game, followed spiders with Harry even though he feared them greatly, stood between Harry and who they thought was a killer _on a broken leg_ but-

He is an **_idiot._**

"Ugh," she yells, and it is _loud _and it resonates in the dark wood, "why can't I finally find someone _smart? _Better yet, I wish I could find my _match_"

A star above her twinkled, and suddenly-

Suddenly-

Branches start to rustle, the wind picks up, and it is not a natural sound, not at all, and she- she stumbles backwards, trips over a root, struggles to get. Her. Damn. Glove. Of, reaches for her wand in her purse, ugh, too much books, too much, finds it, wipes the hair from her face-

Freezes.

There is a hand hovering there, waiting for her to take it, to help her up. She stares at the pale hand for what feels like an eternity, her bum freezing off, and then, slowly, moves her eyes past the hand to a slender torso, a neck and, and, and _what?_

She is looking, perhaps, at the most angelic face she has ever seen. Dark hair is carefully arranged on his head, a sculpted jaw frames a beautiful mouth and a perfect nose is straight in the middle. Dark, exasperated eyes look down at her, and she remembers he is waiting for her to take his hand.

He reminds her a bit of Harry, strangely, but no, no scar, no green eyes, and Harry's hair could never look _that way._

"Miss?" he asks, and even his voice sounds melodic and-

Against better judgement

She takes his hand.

It happens _so fast. _He pulls her up, spins her, yanks her wand from her hand, wraps his other arm around her torso, making her unable to move, her back against his chest, she is breathing heavily, and wait, wait, _what is happening_?

"You wished for your match, didn't you Hermione? I must say, it is a pleasure to meet you. A word of advice, though, _be careful what you wish for."_

Her stomach sinks, her eyes water, and distantly she can hear Ron and Harry yelling out her name, they were here this whole time where they not, and she, _and she_ fell literally into Voldemorts clutches, Oh God,

Voldemort, Voldemort, Vol-de-mort, her brain thumps and it is roaring and she feels dizzy and he is spinning. She registers she is holding something when she feels it falling down and then,

The world becomes fuzzy around the edges as they squeeze through apparition tunnels and-

The red glove falls to the ground, and the snow slowly starts covering it with glistening white, until it too, has disappeared.


	4. Out of My Head

**A/N: I asked for prompts and the lovely Tomione fandom on Tumblr obliged.**

**Written for cocoartistwrites (**** cocoartistwrites. tumblr ) who writes too, check it out. Prompt was 'Out of My Head' by Digggital Daggers, I hope this satisfies.**

**_i._**

"No, Tom!" she screams, and it's ugly, and her voice comes out like a screech, but she _can't _anymore.

"No, no, no," he mimics, "and yet you always stay. Never go"

She wants to slap him for his mocking tone, but instead she curls in, breathes in, out, shakes her head softly. There is a flicker of concern on his face but she ignores it.

"Sometimes I wonder, how much of it was true?" self-deprecating amusement, and she pretends her voice does not break, "You know.. I always have liked masks. But now- what's the point of loving something truly beautiful, but empty? Full of lies?"

She shakes her head, blinks because she refuses to let the tears fall. Simply refuses.

It seemed so good at first, and yet she cannot remember what it feels like to not be dying inside.

**_._**

_There was a time where she only saw light when she looked at him. There was a time where his tongue tasted like honey and she craved every drop, always hungry for more. A time where she listened to his words, wide eyed, amazed. _

_He had not yet noticed her then, and the first time she approached him he just looked at her blankly._

_The second time however.. the second time he smirked, all white teeth and sharp, and licked his lips slowly, raking his eyes over her._

_She had thought of him as salvation._

_But then he pulled her under._

**_ii._**

"Tom Riddle," he smiles, offers her his hand, "we have spoken I know, but I don't think we have ever been properly introduced"

"No, we haven't" she nods, smiles back, grasps his hand, "I'm Hermione. Hermione Granger"

"Hermione.. mythology or Shakespeare?"

"I think it may have been a bit of both"

"All the better," he raises his eyebrows, "more depth. More history"

She should have known right there. She should have run away from the moment he wrapped his hand around hers and refused to let go.

Hermione always had a weakness for handsome men. A handsome, brilliant man? Recipe for her undoing.

And indeed, the following three days she isn't able to get him out of her head. And when he texts her, after asking Harry of all people for her number, it is the start of something magnificent.

**_._**

_She fell in love slowly, and then all at once. Everything in her life was Tom, Tom, Tom. He burned the world around her and she admired the flames. He drowned her in him again and again and again and she marvelled at the water. He swept her up, carried her away, and her heart was his._

_(too bad his heart was never hers)_

_And she should have known. Flames are beautiful, but once they devour everything they just disappear.. and only cinders are left._

**_iii._**

A month later, he has a key to her apartment. Three months later she has one to his. Four months later they simply buy a new one together.

She could not escape him, even if she wanted to. She is wrapped up in him, and he is everywhere and she cannot run, cannot run.

He only needs to run his fingers over her skin to get her to burn for him-

Somehow they both forget burning kills.

**_._**

_A porcelain cup. Beautiful at first, with little roses on it and a golden edge. _

_But after a while, it is no longer treated with so much care. The roses whiter, become less vibrant. The gold chirps away. It bumps into thing, gets dropped._

_First a crack. And then.. the porcelain simply __**shatters **__and there are only pieces left._

**_iv._**

Hermione hates not being able to be in control. But she finds herself losing it slowly. There is a mask he wears she can't get under, and she is afraid to even try.

There is this dark side she can't handle, and she is afraid.

Because everything hurts now. And it kills her.

She doesn't want to die inside.

**_._**

_Letting go. Walking away. _

_It's easier said than done._

_Hermione knows, __**she knows**__, she needs to leave, needs to get him out of her head._

_She has tasted the venom on his tongue, knows how toxic it is that she always craves more. _

_But god, she wants to __**stay.**_

**_v._**

"I can't do this anymore, Tom" she whispers, and it sounds tired, dull- broken.

"_Hermione_," he whispers and he sounds wrecked.

She tries to fight it, she really does. But she knows, there is no getting him out of her head.

And she turns back.

**_._**

_His heart was an obsession, never a possession. But she craves it, she craves it._

_She cannot get him out of her head._

_At this point, she doesn't even want to anymore._


	5. What Have You Done (Now)?

_Prompt fic for the song 'What have you done' by Within Temptation._

_One day, he'll go too far, and she'll ask 'What have you done now?' without it really being a question. One day he'll go too far, and there will be no turning back. __(And still, she stays.)_

**A/N: ****I dislike this one. I had the hardest time coming up with something and I feel it's rushed and sloppy but I thought to hell with it and finally wrote it. Leave me a comment telling me if you liked it? It would brighten my day!**

**Written for Nerys(Dax) - .com Thank you for the song! I loved it. The lyrics were so Tomione, and I hope I did it justice. (Though I fear I didn't)**

**Oh, and it is an alternate universe (AU). Tom and Hermione go to school together. ****They do not, however, share the orphanage.**

**Enjoy!**

_**.**_

_**Now**_

"What have you done now?" She gasps, tears in her eyes.

He turns towards her, so, so slowly. There is panic in his eyes, and she knows he knows he made a mistake. It was not planned, not foreseen.

She should have never been here, have seen this.

But she _has._

And she _knows._

It is the last drop. It's over now.

"Hermione," he whispers, like he has so many times.

_**Then**_

"Do you mind if I sit here?" She asks, voice soft, "everywhere else is full."

(It isn't, but there are redheads who frowned at her attire and a blonde boy who sneered and muttered something that sounded very much like an insult)

The black-haired boy looks up, and holds her gaze. Holds it, and holds it. Hermione, awkward, drops her eyes to the book in his hands.

"Oh, are you reading Hogwart's a History?" she asks, excited, "so did I."

"Did you?" he asks, and then he sighs, and nods at the seat across from him.

She sits down, twisting her hands, and takes him in. He looks small, and a bit scrawny, with dry skin and flat hair. But his face is kind of nice. Grey eyes, high cheekbones, and a straight nose.

He smirks when he catches her staring, and she averts her eyes quickly again. _Good job, Hermione, two minute span._

"It's Tom," he offers then, surprising her thoroughly, "Tom Riddle."

"Hermione," she smiles, "Granger"

"Shakespeare?"

"Yes," She smiles at him, tentative, and after a second he smiles back. They discuss books, a bit of mythology and magic. She gets him to look shocked once or twice, though he has studied as well as she has apparently and it is the best train ride she could ever wish for.

_**Now**_

"No," no and her voice is hard. No, because this is what she must do.

"I have showed you mercy one too many times, she says, drawing herself up fully. But now..," her voice breaks on the now, and she falters. She _falters._

He takes a step forward.

But she shakes her head, because this time she can't deny it, can she?

(There's a dead body at her feet and water on her shoes).

_**Then**_

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

She looks up from her bag, where she is desperately trying to find her quill before Professor Dumbledore enters the classroom to find a boy in green and silver tie smirking at her and twirling a quill with his fingers.

"Tom!" she reproaches him, "Can I get my quill back?"

"It depends.. can I sit here?"

".. Fine."

"No reason to sound so unenthusiastic"

She smiles sweetly, gestures at the seat next to her, and grabs her quill from his hand. Just when he is about to say something Dumbledore enters the room.

The moment Dumbledore asks the first question, Hermione's hand shoots up- or at least, it would, if _someone_was not holding it down under the desk.

"Tom," she hisses, "what.."

"If you are always so eager to answer all the questions people will think you a bossy know-it-all. You need to play it smooth"

"Mister Riddle, Miss Granger, is something going on? Does any of you two knows the answer, perhaps?"

".. No, sir," Hermione responds at last, "sorry to interrupt."

Tom smirks triumphantly the moment Dumbledore looks away, and soothes her wrist with his thumb.

Later Hermione learns he has been answering questions all the time in the lessons they do not share, and he has been leading Slytherin to a sure victory.

And indeed. Slytherin wins the Housecup.

Hermione confronts him, furious "What have you done?" And he _laughs_ at her. "Slytherins don't play fair, Granger. We play to win."

They don't talk the whole summer, but when they come back he greets her with a smirk and gestures at an empty compartment, and she smiles back.

_**Now**_

"All those times.. I believed you. And it turns out you have been _lying_to me for five. Damn. Years."

His voice is urgent when he tries to explain, his charm all fixed in place. Some part of her wonders why he is so desperate when it comes to her, but that part is overshadowed by a much bigger part.

_Spite. Revenge. Fury._

"Tom Riddle, the poor _Halfblood_boy bullied by his peers. So badly he had to pretend not to like me."

He takes another step forward, and she takes a step back. Away from Myrtle, and towards the door. She steps on something and bends to take it.

_**Then**_

"Hi Tom," she tries but achieves the same result she has the same past months.

A blank look, a tiny nod.

A week later she drags him into an empty classroom. His lip starts quivering as he tells her the Slytherins hate him, because Riddle is an unknown name. Because his blood is probably not pure. He tells her they have done this the past three years too, but this year it is worse. Because of some first year pure-blood edging the others on.

He tells her he wants to _protect_her.

They agree to keep meeting in secret, because he still wants to keep in touch with her.

_A Slytherin attacks her, two months later and Tom steps in, majestic, furious, has him covering before him, asks "__**What did I tell you about leaving this one alone?"**_

_The boy, the__**knight**____as she learns later,__**bows**____before him, calls him__**Lord.**_

"_You.. you lied to me!" She screams at him, nursing her bleeding arm, and he only urges her to stay still while he heals her. Advanced magic._

_She slaps him when he is done. Twice. When she goes to do it a third time he grabs her hand, almost crushes it._

"_What have you done?" she whispers, and he does not reply._

_She walks away, crying, and hates herself, because she knows she will be back._

_**Now**_

"Oh," she laughs, "This brings happy memories too, doesn't it?"

In her hand she holds a black diary, T. M. Riddle engraved in the leather.

"Didn't you promise me you would stop?"

"I haven't done it," he answers.

"No," she says, "but only because I interrupted you. Right?"

"I- I wouldn't do it anyways."

"Oh, stop lying Tom. We both know you would."

_**Then**_

He had told her about his legacy, about being the Heir from Slytherin, he had showed her the journal in which he kept the research he had done, in which he noted every book on genealogy he could find. Every new development.

The thing is.. he was not only researching his name.

_The book falls open, and Hermione mutters a distracted apology, picks it up._

_Her heart freezes._

_Horcruxes. He is researching__**horcruxes.**_

"_What have you done?"_

_Just curiosity he tells her, smiles reassuringly. She can only nod dumbly._

_And still she stays._

_**Now**_

"I don't want you to be my enemy, Hermione"

"You'll have to kill me then, Tom," she snorts, "and yes, I would mind if you did."

The trouble is.. he knows her too well. Can see through her. He knows she could never be his enemy.

"Don't pretend to hate me, Hermione" he smiles, slowly, "we both know you don't."

"You're right," she shrugs, "_you_are the one carrying hate I don't feel. I'm a Mudblood, remember?"

He hushes her, urgent, looks around.

She laughs, hollowly, drops the book and spreads her arms.

"What? Don't want me to say it so you can pretend it's not true? I'm a Mudblood, Tom, a _Mudblood_, _Mudbloodmudbloodmudblood_. Remember when you found out the first time?"

Suddenly a hissing noise comes from belowand before she can even look Tom throws himself at her, bodily.

"Close your eyes, Hermione, _damn it. Obscuro"_

She cannot see anymore, feels him pressing into her, hears him hissing and _cries._Cries because he saved her, and because she wants him so badly to just be Tom. _Her Tom._

_**Then**_

"What about you? Have you ever thought about researching your name? I know there is a potioneer named Granger. Perhaps-"

"Oh I don't need to," she smiles, "I am Muggleborn. Hadn't I told you?"

His fist clenches, his mouth snaps shut, his breathing gets heavier.

"You are a Mud- a Muggleborn."

It is not a question, but a statement.

"Do you have a problem with that? With me being a Mudblood? That's what you were going to say wasn't it?"

"Have I gone too far?" he says, sounding in control again.

_What have you done_is on the point of her tongue, but she swallows it, because she knows.

"No," she says, "Not yet."

One day, she'll say what have you done _now._She knows. It is like fate hates them. She has woken to dreams of never knowing Tom, even being born later. She has woken to dreams of trashing under his wand, or _dying_under it. Sometimes she wonders if fate got it wrong. Sometimes she wonders if they are cursed. It seems there is no happy ending in sight for them.

_**Now**_

"Why did you save me?" she sobs, clinging to him like a baby would to his mother.

"Because I can't lose you" he says, wiping away her tears gently, stroking her hair. "Sometimes I feel like there is a curse between us, like this was not fate's intention. I can't let fate win, can't I?"

She laughs shakily. "So there is goodness in you after all."

"There is no good or evil, Hermione. There is only power and those too weak to seek it."

She pauses, hesitates. "I could believe that. Maybe."

His eyes open, and he surges forward, kisses her breath away.

"I've been waiting for you all this time," he says, "I won't let you go. Ever."

"Wait, wait. What are you saying?" she's confused, mostly.

"You have to chose Hermione. You have to chose between staying or walking away. Between being mine or being no one's. Either way, I promise you, we will be free when it ends."

_She is standing at a crossroad, a dead body at her feet. And she chooses._

_**Later**_

There's only this now: Tom's soft palms, his calloused fingers. His kisses and his voice in her ear.

(Her own, clear in her head)

She accompanies him to Riddle House, and kills his grandfather while he kills his grandmother. They kill his father together.

(They do not make a Horcrux. They will find another way to live forever)

There's only this now: Tom's soft palms, his calloused fingers. Plans for the future, power in their grip.

People whisper: "What have you done." If they say too much, look to accusing._Avada kedavra_. And the whispers cease.

(They are not cursed, they are blessed.)

There is only this now: freedom.


End file.
